


Glorfindel's Gift

by fimbrethiel



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 04:17:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3195008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fimbrethiel/pseuds/fimbrethiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Glorfindel’s begetting day, he enjoys his gift to the fullest.  Glorfindel’s POV.</p><p>This was a belated birthday gift for Denise (sian265), a wonderful woman and great friend.  She wanted Erestor and Glorfindel, and as sexy as I could make it. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glorfindel's Gift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sian265](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sian265).



> Original date of completion: August 17, 2004

~*~*~*~*~

My preparations complete, I sit cross-legged on the bed and wait impatiently for my lover to finish his morning bath. He walks through the doorway of our bathing chamber still damp and flushed from the heated water, toweling his hair dry, another towel slung loosely about his lean hips. I allow my eye to rake appraisingly over his slender form, and I lick my lips in anticipation. My darkling Counselor is a stunning sight, one that I will never tire of. He is glorious, and all mine. 

He also has no idea what I have in store for him this morning, and I chuckle to myself.

He sees me seated, waiting for him, and smiles at me. That familiar tug at my heart whenever his piercing black eyes meet mine overflows and threatens to spill over in a rush of love for him. Raising my hand, I beckon for him to join me on the bed, holding up his hairbrush. He nods and settles in front of me, and I carefully set to work, gently picking the tangles from his thick raven locks. A short while later, the lush mass is nearly dry and flowing like midnight rain down his slim back.

I deem the time nigh to set my plan into motion, and I reach under the pillow and withdraw a slip of silk, soft and feather-light. He follows my motions and turns his head, his exotic, sloe eyes open wide, searching my face in mild confusion upon seeing the fabric. I hold it up to him in question. “May I?” I ask quietly, suddenly unsure if he will acquiesce. This is not a game we have partaken of before, and I wonder how my stoic Counselor will react when he understands what it is that I request of him. But to my joy, he nods tentatively, and I release a small breath of relief, a breath I was not aware of holding until it rushed from my chest.

Making a thick band, I tie the silk firmly over his eyes, loose enough to allow for comfort, yet snug enough to ensure he remains unknowing of what else I have planned for him. Carefully I guide him in lying down on his back, and arrange him to my satisfaction upon the coverlet. “No peeking,” I warn, and he dips his head in promise.

Another stealthy reach under the pillow yields a length of strong rope of Elven make, unbreakable, yet soft and flexible. I loop one end around his delicate wrist, knowing the strength hidden in those deceptively slender limbs. Erestor gives as good as he gets, I know all too well. He opens his mouth to protest, “Glorfindel, what are you- -“ and I silence him with a finger upon his ruby lips. 

“Shush, my love. It is my begetting day, and I wish to enjoy my gift to its fullest, since it came to me so thoughtfully unwrapped.” He shivers slightly and dutifully closes his mouth again.

The remaining length of rope I tie around one of the slats of our sturdy headboard, then run it along and tie off another slat before securing the loose end of the rope around the other wrist. I give an experimental tug on the knots, ensuring the bindings are loose enough not to harm my mate, yet secure enough to keep him from escaping before I have had my fill of his luscious body. 

I sit back on my haunches, admiring my handiwork. Erestor’s long, slim frame is spread upon the bed we share, his arms stretched above his head and spread wide. He is stunning, bound as he is, and I wonder with some amusement why I have never done this before now. Pale, peachy nipples beckon to me, and his sex is already full against his stomach. A pulse beats at the base of his neck, and I lean forward and nip it gently.

He moans slightly at the unexpected touch and his pale skin quivers under my fingers as I run my hands up and down over the bath-warmed flesh of his ribs. I cannot resist tasting his pebbled nipples, and I suckle them firmly, moving between one and then the other as his breathing begins to come more quickly under my loving assault.

I slide up his body and take my own hard length in hand. Straddling his chest, I nudge his chin with the fleshy tip, and he opens obediently and takes my sex into his mouth. My Erestor is as orally talented in the bedroom as he is in the Council chambers, and I want to feel his mouth on me, whetting my own desires before furthering my seduction. His tongue swirls around the head and he takes me in as deeply as he can, craning his neck in order to take me in more fully. 

I lean forward and grasp the headboard, angling so he can take me with ease, and flex my hips, pumping lightly into the wet heat of his mouth. A delightful vibration runs through my groin as I realize he is humming as he pleasures me. Already I feel the tightening in my sac and know that if I do not pull away soon, I will spend in his throat. 

Nay, that will not do at all, for I wish to spend only when sheathed within the blessed, tight heat of his body. Grudgingly, I pull my swollen length from between his lips, and he groans with frustration. Erestor has always loved to pleasure me thus, and whenever he so chooses, I lovingly oblige him.

I slide back down his body and spread his legs, sitting at his hips, and rest his legs over my thighs. He cannot see me, but he feels my touch and knows what I am about to do. 

At least he thinks he does, for I have forayed again to my trove of supplies hidden under the pillow. He gasps aloud when he feels the strip of leather I quickly bind his shaft and sac with, for I do not intend to allow my Erestor release any time soon. He is my gift to myself, and I intend to enjoy him for as long as I am able, before my need to possess him becomes too great.

The thick, bound column of flesh before me darkens with blood; the veins pulsing just under the satin skin are utterly tempting. I lean forward to trace the lines with the tip of my tongue. Erestor moans and thrusts his hips up, seeking further contact. The tip of his shaft glistens with clear, shiny fluids, and I dip my tongue against the slit, tasting his salt and rolling it around in my mouth, savoring the flavor of love as I would a fine wine. For that is my dearest – rich and mellow, his complexity only enhanced by the passing of years.

He bucks up and whispers raggedly from under his blindfold, “Glorfindel, please…” but I will not rush this. I will bring him to the brink and back again, over and over until his voice is hoarse from pleading and the silk covering his eyes is wet with tears of need. Then, and only then, will I allow him release.

And that is what I do.

I tease him and taste him, taking him into my mouth. First gentle and loving, then strong and deep. I breathe in his scent, the spicy vanilla bath soap he favors, and it is as refreshing to me as miruvor. It is his scent, uniquely Erestor, and even when we are apart for weeks, I only have to think about my mate’s dark, intriguing beauty, and his scent floods my very senses.

Each time he swells in my mouth and nears his peak, I withdraw. I keep him on edge, just a hair’s breadth away from climax, and soon he begins to strain in earnest against his bonds. He cannot escape, for I have made certain to practice my knot work in anticipation of this very day. His hips grind against the bed, and at last I must use the strength of my hands against his thighs spread over mine to keep him from bucking against me.

The morning shadows through our window shorten as the sun rises ever higher in the sky. The binding around his arousal keeps him from spending, and he swears at me in every language he knows, begging and demanding for me to allow him release. His grasp of language is formidable, and I smile to myself around the pulsing length in my mouth. 

Not yet, my beloved. I am not quite through with you yet.

A glistening thread of his juices clings to my lip as I pull my mouth from his leaking arousal, and I gather it up on my finger. I reach toward him and run the slick finger along his crimson lips. He eagerly opens his mouth and suckles my finger, and I shudder to feel his heat circle and suck our mingled fluids from that digit. I know how sinful that mouth is, and I feel my resolve to continue his torment weakening. I struggle against the desire to again bury myself to the root in that wet cavern and ride his mouth until I spill down his throat, but the promise of spending within the confines of his tight backside is too great to deny.

The lone item from the supply hidden under the pillow is brought forth – a small vial of sweetly scented oil. Erestor’s mouth forms a perfect “O” when he hears the pop of the stopper being opened and the scent of our preferred oil fills the room, and parts his thighs further, thrusting his hips into the warm morning air. He whimpers slightly, but still I will not give him what he wants.

Not quite yet.

I settle back into position and in one motion, again engulf his seeping length in my mouth. He cries out and arches off the bed, forcing himself further into me. My motion is simply a distraction; as he thrusts against me I slide an oiled finger into the puckered ring of his backside. His cry changes quickly to a hiss of breath drawn between his teeth and the sudden penetration. I crook my finger and search for my target – that small bump that will be sure to give me what I demand from him.

His shaft is blood red and throbbing within my mouth as I take him in as deeply as I can. He moans and thrashes against me, riding my finger as it strokes him from within. A second finger follows the first, and quickly a third. Erestor is wanton and desperate, and my own desire becomes almost unbearable. Never before have I seen him this needful, and it drives my own lust to a level I have never imagined. I ache to take him, and I can feel my own arousal pulsing with each beating of my heart, painfully hard and dripping. 

But still I will not give in.

He thrusts upward into my mouth, frantic with lust. His voice becomes hoarse and ragged from begging. I pump my fingers quickly, stroking and rubbing against the firm nub, my eyes trained intently on his face. Then suddenly I see what I have been watching for – the silken fabric covering his eyes spotted darkly with his tears of need.

I withdraw my fingers and mouth quickly, and he nearly screams with rage and frustration. He sobs in earnest now; the cloth is almost soaked and his chest heaves as he strains against his bonds. 

One more moment, my lover, and I will give you what we both desire.

I pour a palmful of oil, spilling a large quantity on the bed, but I do not care. I need to have him now. I slick my length rapidly, crying out at the touch of my own hand on my flesh, knowing we are only moments away from what we crave. His legs are roughly pushed back, his knees to his chest, and I kneel at the ready before him. One hard push and I am inside him, inside that blistering heat of my love’s body, buried deep. 

He shrieks as he is suddenly filled, and I cannot wait any longer. I know he will be sore later, but I am beyond rational thought. I ride him hard, almost viciously, and he meets my every motion with guttural grunts; he has cried out so strenuously that he is almost voiceless.

My sac is hard and tight against my body and my release is upon me. I know Erestor is even more desperate than I, and as the first spasms of orgasm come over me, I reach between our sweat-drenched bodies and tug at the knot of the leather binding his shaft. One more thrust into his heated depths and he tenses and howls as he spills in great spurting jets of hot cream between our bodies. My answering shout echoes in our room when the blinding white light bursts in my head, and I come hard in his shuddering passage, filling his body with my love for him.

I collapse atop him, trembling and spent, still embedded deeply within him, my heart racing and my breathing harsh and ragged. Erestor is limp under me, lying in a daze, only partially conscious of my weight heavy upon his body. I catch my breath and rise up. His only sound is a slightly pained whimper as I slip my spent member carefully from him, along with a tiny trickle of my seed. 

I quickly clean myself of the sticky fluids of our lovemaking, then tenderly wipe his flushed body clean. The ropes are untied, and I help him move his arms to his sides, as they have become sore and numb from his struggles. I kiss the abraded, red marks on both his wrists, and then finally slip the tear-dampened cloth from his eyes. He blinks in the sudden blinding light, and gives me a small, satisfied smile as I take him within my arms and hold him close to me.

“Happy begetting day to me,” I smile, and kiss him.

 

*~*~* FINIS *~*~*


End file.
